


What Are Friends For?

by EriesSubjugates



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:25:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EriesSubjugates/pseuds/EriesSubjugates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You called Benedikt earlier. Or tried to. After the third ring you ended the call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are Friends For?

**Author's Note:**

> I actually predicted the night before the match that the scoreline would be 2-1; Dortmund, and Marco will score. He did, so I decided to stick with the idea that they'll win, but they didn't. At least they won their Champions League last night.

That's it.

You decided that you'll get drunk. The pressure and disappointment weighed too much on your shoulder. You had a goal before the season started. You were excited back then. Fresh from the post World Cup bliss and promoted to captain? What more can a footballer ask? The club started alright. Not necessarily worthy of praise, but hey, you'll have to take every point you can gain. The Champions League commenced and your club have done more than enough. And then the Revierderby. You were beginning to worry then. You didn't show it, you never wanted your mates to worry. So you buried it at the back of your mind. 

And then you lost. You accepted it but not without a heavy heart. You wish Benni was there. You know that he was recuperating from his injury so you had to accept the defeat. 

The slump continued consecutively. Your Champions League matches were alright. You lead the group table. They tried to stretch your Champions League luck in your last game before the Klassiker. You wore your Champions League kit, Marco is back in the squad, only to lose again. 

Same pain. 

Try as you may, you were getting tired of this. Your mind and body scream for a win, you wanted to. It always ended bitterly--you failed to deliver.

You wrote a Facebook post about it, claiming that you are not happy with the result but you will try your very bestbto bounce back. As a captain and a club should. You smiled at the words of encouragement some people comment even though they don't really feel the same way as you do.

Then came the Klassiker. Everyone anticipated for an upset. You knew you will cause an upset. You had it in mind that Marco will score tonight. You told him that. He gave you a skeptical look as he fixed his hairdo. You roll your eyes at the display. You can feel it. Deep in your core, you're going to win this. The match will be your major boost.

When Marco scored you know that you stand a chance. You have their defenses in shambles. At least you thought you did until the pain on your foot returned. You ignore it knowing full well that is your duty as a captain and a defender to command your squad. Everyone was working hard around you, and so you did it too.

The pain lingered. You had to be substituted off the field, lest you want to aggravate your injury further. Neven came on your place in the second half. As you sit there the uncomfortable feeling returned full blast. 

Robert scored. You were annoyed not at your mates but at Robert. That goal felt like a stab. The Bayern crowd cheered. The uncomfortable feeling that settled in your stomach began to gnaw at you. You believed that you could still salvage the game and come up victorious.

You really do. 

But that was all before Robben slotted the goal. You wince at that, You feel for Roman who had done his very best. You glanced at the scoreboard, and felt your blood run cold. Your only option was to equalize, but with the second goal, Bayern pushed harder. Three minutes of added time, you wanted to scream why. You wanted to punch Robert for being a backstabbing dick. Of all clubs that he had to go to, he went to their rival. As i f that wasn't enough, he chose to score against your club.

How painful.

\--

Forget being professional. You find yourself saying. You have every right to be mad and wallow in self pity this night in your place. 

You called Benedikt earlier. Or tried to. After the third ring you ended the call. You hear your doorbell ring as you were about to down your first glass of wine in one go. You wonder who could still be around at this time of the night. Marco had told you earlier that he'll sleep this through, so it definitely can't be Marco. Erik, though, he's most likely beating Bayern on FIFA.

You open your door. You failed to suppress your shock. You feel yourself being pulled in a tight embrace. You were rendered stupefied.

'What are you doing here?' you want to ask. You were curious. The distance between Dormund and Gelsikerchen is no joke, and this late?

'Mats.' you hear him breathe against your neck. 

You hug him back, tighter than you originally planned so you let go immediately. Your face may have betrayed you because he chuckled. 'Silly boy, I was around the area.' he says. He laughs harder at the confused look you are giving him. He steers you to your living room where you had the bottle of wine and the glass you have left earlier. He clicks his tongue and glares at you mockingly. 

'You're planning to drink without me? I'm hurt Mats.' he says. He pouts playfully. You can't help but smile a little. He places his hands on your cheeks and you let him rest them there. His thumbs brushes on near your lips. 

'Smile.' you hear him say. If your smile grows a fraction wider, he didn't comment on it. Instead he flops down on your sofa and pats the space next to him. You sit next to him, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, his other hand strokes your scalp. You purr at the soothing massage. You feel your body sag. The weight of the loss and your club's current position is still there...but you remind yourself to focus on this moment. You are thankful of his presence. 

'Better?' he asks.

You mumbled okay and squeezed his leg for confirmation.

His mere presence brings you happiness, both your duties forgotten, just the two of you like a normal couple, enjoying each other's company.

'Thank, Benni.' you say, hoping that he understands your sincerity.


End file.
